


After

by anr



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-14
Updated: 2005-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anr/pseuds/anr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it's all over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: _Kobol's Last Gleaming (Part 2)_
> 
> Betas: meyerlemon and rheanna27
> 
> Request: Kara/Lee, angst, banter and daddy issues.

You're exhausted and on edge when it's all over; not thinking rationally. In too short a period of time--minutes, you think, though logically you know it must have been hours, if not days--there's been betrayal and bloodshed. Friends lost, the government almost ruined, lives broken and your father shot, right before your eyes, at point blank range by a person you thought you could trust.

You thought a lot of things once.

Not anymore.

  


* * *

  


Fifteen minutes before the next scheduled jump. Fourteen. In the CIC, Tigh promises it'll be the fifth, and final, jump so long as the DRADIS remains clear.

Kara limps away while you're still trying to decide whether or not you believe that and you let her go for all of about a second before following.

  


* * *

  


You're in a weapons locker--possibly C level, but you're still learning your way around this ship so you may be mistaken on that--and the grille cuts into your shoulder blades when she shoves just that little bit too hard. You don't complain: this isn't about comfort.

This is about contact. About skin and touch and hands. Her mouth open against yours and the scent of blood--hers and your father's--filling your head until all you can thinkfeelknow is this moment.

She tastes like copper, like machinery, like everything wrong in the universe and even though you know you should stop this, you don't.

You can't.

Not while there are Cylons in the brig and your father's still in surgery. Not while you're still breathing (and you're pretty sure that you are, that she hasn't killed you yet).

It doesn't take much to work your hand into her pants, or to slip your fingers past her briefs, and she's wet and warm in ways you'd only hoped of knowing. You finger her roughly, encouraged by the sounds she's making and the way she clutches at your shoulders, your head, the grille behind you. She's a little desperate, a little broken, and you're kinda terrified by how much you like that. Like being the cause of that, even if only in part.

"Damnit, Apollo," she curses, scratching your neck. "Stop frakking around."

You smile grimly. "And here I was," you free your hand from her pants and shove them down as she toes off her boots, "thinking that was the whole point."

"You think too damn much," she says and, because she's right, you don't contest it, just grab and twist and push until it's her on the grille. She growls something derogatory under her breath and holds on too tight as you shift against and then into her.

Your turn to growl.

It's messy and awkward and you're both still wearing too many damn clothes. Her teeth sink into your neck as you lift one of her legs, grinding against her with each thrust. It's not supposed to be like this and it's always going to be like this and you close your eyes as the FTL drive finally kicks in and the universe warps around you.

Climax.

  


* * *

  


You're still exhausted, still on edge when it's all over; _definitely_ not thinking rationally.

Kara sinks a little in your grip, her forehead moving to press against the bite marks she's left on your neck as she breathes the word, " _frak_ ," into your shoulder.

"Yeah." Slowly you unclench your fingers, releasing her hip and left knee. You swallow hard. "We should--"

" _Attention: pass the word to Captain Adama and Lieutenant Thrace. Captain Adama and Lieutenant Thrace, please report to the infirmary._ "

"--go." That's probably not what you were originally going to say.

"Yeah."

  


* * *

  


Tigh's waiting for you both outside the infirmary, a scowl firmly in place.

"Where the hell did you two disappear to?"

"Sorry," says Kara, sounding anything but, "we were doing inventory." She brushes past him before he can say anything else and you do the same. Already you can hear a voice you never thought you'd hear again.

  


* * *

  


Your father's alive. _Alive_. For the first time in way too long, you allow yourself the luxury of emotion, of relief. You smile.

  


* * *

  


Doc Cottle doesn't let you stay long, just long enough for you to memorise the sound of your father's breathing. You don't mind--that's more than what you had an hour ago.

"We'll come back later," you promise as you head towards the door.

Kara adds, "just as soon as we can find you a stogie."

Your father smiles, tired looking but _alive_. "I can taste it already."

In the corridor, you're careful not to look at her too much as you both make your way to quarters (at least, you're assuming that's where you're headed). You're thinking again now and you're not so sure you like where those thoughts are going.

"Kara." Your hand is on her arm, halting her, before you can stop yourself.

"Lee?"

_It was a mistake. It was adrenaline. It was something that can never be repeated._ She's right: you really shouldn't think so much. "Inventory?" you repeat, eyebrow raising.

"Sure. Thirty-two teeth, ten fingers, one--" Her gaze heads south, tongue running along her bottom lip, before ascending once more. "--nose." With a smirk, she pulls free of your grip and walks away, a suggestive, "you coming?" tossed over her shoulder.

_Not yet_ , you think, grinning.

You follow.

  


* * *

The End

**Author's Note:**

> ORIGINAL URL: <http://anr.livejournal.com/202607.html>


End file.
